How Myrtle Died
by Lina1
Summary: from myrtle's point of view, about how she died. it's, er, interesting..


  
It was an ordinary, depressing day like any other, I though miserably, and many   
more would come—or so I thought.   
  
At least, I was correct about the ordinary, depressing part. It was June the third   
during my fourth year at Hogwarts. I was on my way to Transfiguration when   
that loathsome, dim-witted Olive Hornby and her stupid friends came up behind   
me and started teasing me about my glasses.  
  
"Why, look, it's four-eyed Myrtle! What a surprise!"  
  
"I say, Myrtle, you're looking pretty---pretty ugly!"   
  
The hallways rang with their laughter. I covered my face with my hands and   
began to cry, which further induced their mirth. I had no idea why they chose me   
to torment----I had done nothing wrong. I turned and started running, the   
opposite way from my class. I didn't even care if Professor Dumbledore caught   
me; I just wanted to get away from the teasing. I ran all the way to the girls'   
toilet, my book bag banging against my knees painfully as I went, kids gawking   
at me as if I were some sort of exhibit or something---oh, how I wished they   
would just leave me alone. I locked myself inside the last stall, sat there with   
tears flowing down my face for the longest time, sobbing hysterically---I must   
have been a terrible sight, but I couldn't care less. I couldn't imagine how anyone   
could be as mean as that terrible Olive Hornby. Her taunts echoed in my ears,   
about how stupid and fat and miserable I was, and how ugly my glasses were.   
  
After a while, I heard a voice. A boy's voice. Speaking in a different language or   
something, it was some sort of hissing, like a snake. I unlocked the stall to tell   
him to go away and looked around. One second, the bathroom looked empty, but   
then I had a blurry glimpse of a pair of gigantic bright yellow eyes, and then my   
vision went black, I lost feeling in my whole body. I felt myself stiffening   
subconsciously, and then there was the strangest feeling, like I was on an old   
broomstick drifting about higher and higher and higher, except I couldn't see   
anything, couldn't feel anything at all—nothing but a world of black. Then, I saw   
white stars dancing across my vision and slowly the world came back into focus,   
only something was different.   
  
I couldn't quite place my finger on it, and it drove me mad. Something was   
wrong. I was in the bathroom, lying on the floor. I could see the damp blue tiles,   
and the pipes underneath the sinks, but I couldn't move. I tried and tried to get   
up, and after some struggling, I felt myself rise—but far too fast! I was floating   
upwards and upwards, with my eyes squinched shut, and finally I stopped myself   
and opened my eyes, and I gasped.   
I was in a hallway. There was carpeting, and a couple of suits of armor against   
the walls, and I heard muffled voices. I looked to my left, and there was a door. A   
sign hung on it read:  
Muggle Studies  
Professor A. Bancroft  
  
I tried to walk to the door to read the smaller printing underneath the professor's   
name better, but to my great surprise, I glided. And, apparently, went a little too   
far. For a fraction of a millisecond, I saw nothing but stone, and then I found   
myself inside the classroom.  
  
It was very roomy. Several strange metal boxes were against one wall—I knew   
what they were called, since I had taken Muggle Studies my second year—  
televisions. Batteries, plugs, wire fragments, and odd-shaped metal pieces were   
piled on one counter, and the students, who I recognized as Ravenclaw fifth-  
years, stared at me. The teacher looked up from writing on the blackboard and   
frowned. "No ghosts are allowed in the classrooms while a class is in session.   
Leave."   
  
Stunned, I turned and, expecting to walk smack into the wall, but to my   
amazement, I went straight through. Once back in the hallway, I tried to take a   
deep breath, but a bolt of pain shot through my body. I looked at my hands. They   
were translucent.  
  
The professor had called me a ghost. Was I?  
  
I heard footsteps coming down the hall. I wished myself invisible, and it   
happened. I couldn't see myself. A teacher walked past briskly.   
  
Suddenly I felt a wave of giddiness. I was a ghost. I could do anything I wanted,   
go anywhere I pleased. But where?   
  
Then, I remembered Transfiguration, Olive Hornby, and my body, lying in the   
bathroom. I turned upside down and went through the floor. Immediately I found   
myself back in the girls' toilet. I sat on the edge of a sink, scrutinizing my cold   
body lying on the floor, glasses askew.   
  
Again, I heard footsteps. The door pushed open, and that mean Olive Hornby   
flounced in. She didn't see me or my body on the floor right away; she started   
looking in all the stalls. "I know you're in here, Myrtle," she said in a singsong   
voice. "Professor Dumbledore says you'd better hurry up and get—get—get to   
class…."   
  
She stopped in the middle of closing a stall door. Her eyes widened until I was   
sure they'd pop out of her head, her face just beginning to register shock as she   
stared down at my still body. Then she let out a long, piercing, bloodcurdling   
shriek and keeled over on the floor.   
  
I heard ominous muttering, the scraping of chairs, and a teacher's raised voice   
for order from above, muffled considerably. Footsteps and worried voices grew   
nearer and nearer and finally, Professor McGonagall flung open the door,   
followed by at least five other teachers.   
  
The look on her face was remarkably similar to Olive Hornby's right before she   
fainted. She let out a sort of low groan at the sight of the two lifeless bodies and   
called for Professor Dippet, who came rushing in immediately. Then Professor   
Dumbledore came. Kneeling down beside my body, he felt my wrist and removed   
my glasses. My eyes were all cloudy and dull, like a dead fish's, and it gave me   
the shivers. A strange look came over Dumbledore's face and he said softly,   
"She's dead."  
  
The teachers at the door all gasped in unison, and Flitwick, the Charms teacher,   
burst into tears. Olive Hornby suddenly awoke, and she began babbling about   
how she was sent by Dumbledore to find me, and there I was just lying on the   
floor, and she didn't do anything, she swore. A teacher escorted her to the   
hospital wing, and they took my body away. I'm not sure what they did with it,   
but I think they buried it.   
  
I never told anyone that I was a ghost, but I was determined to get revenge on   
Olive Hornby. I stalked her for years until she went to the Ministry of Magic and   
they made me come back to live in my toilet. I'm almost never happy, and they   
call me Moaning Myrtle. When I was alive I had hoped that dying would be   
blissful, but the only thing I'm happy about is that Olive Hornby isn't here to   
tease me about my glasses anymore.  
  



End file.
